The new Counting Crows album, (Saturday nights and Sunday Mornings,) is so much darker than anyone has given it credit for. It’s a rush of suicidal depression, mixed with the self-realizations of having to wake up with yourself the next morning anyway, and questioning sleeping at all.
Adam is the master of speaking about internal and emotional funerals for the things that never loved us back. This album in particular reaks of motel sex and using the word, ‘baby’ for anyone that spends the night. There’s always words of carnivals and tightropes, and he weaves sadness into lyrics in such a way that you can see his head hanging over a bottle of liquor, and his hand on the piano- desperately trying to mimic something he thought he understood once. The lyrics themselves, are becoming less and less understood, and simplified- in a way that the pain is taking over, even the most heartfelt of songs. It’s darker in a way that when you heard Nirvana’s later music, you understood something big was going to happen. Careful, Adam.
Washinton Square, (the first track on the ‘Sunday Mornings’ side,) is reminiscent of the old structure of his lyrics. Even the beat of the words- mere poetry which resides in your mind after the song is finished,) speak to ‘Recovering the Satellites.’
And it wasn’t until I got to, “Le Ballet D’Or,” that I understood.
Wasted time running scared, when all of love needs is to be believed in
All those springs come and gone,
Passed like trains and box cars, leaving
But I would be lying if I didn’t tell you the truth
They will leave you, they will leave you
So come now, let’s go dance to the siren’s song
Come now, leave your damage behind and gone
Some are lost to you,
Wasted time running scared all I need is to believe in
something like a summer and I know you need somebody just like I do
And all of these foxes go down in there barrel to hide
They will leave you, they will leave you
So come now, let’s go dance to the siren’s song
Come now, Leave your damage behind and gone
So come now, Let’s go down to the dance floor
Come now, Lose your mind at the Ballet D’Or
Some are lost, some are leaving, some are lost, some are leaving
But I’m not gone at all, I’m not going anywhere at all
Some are lost to you,
wasted time running scared now autumns fire is ashes on the breeze
and it spends away like dust on pearls as winter comes to usher in the evening
all of these drummers go stand on the hillside alone
They will leave you, they will leave you alone…
-A. Duritz
They are words from someone who -understands- although? No one may understand him. On the Sunday morning side, there are lyrics after lyrics of being alone, and forgotten, and bitter- and hopeful that someday, the ones we love the most may realize that they are needed here.
“When everything’s over, and everything’s clear when everyone’s older and no one is here- I try to remember a girl on a wire tumbling and diving about Stephan’s Green, like a kite on the air…
come.back.to.me.”
